mercedes-benz

IT SOUNDS like something that Gerry Anderson might have conjured up with a couple of string-assisted pilots in mind.

The Polestar One has a name that conjures up images of a machine powered by nuclear reactors and piloted by one of the Tracy family at four times the speed of sound, but in fact this vaguely sci-fi name’s been given to a car, and one that isn’t the normal motor show flight of one-off fancy. It is, according to Volvo, going to be slapped on the back of a fully-fledged production model that’ll be tootling along our streets in about two years’ time.

But it isn’t just the name that’s a bit Blade Runner. This two-door coupe is an electric car backed up by a tiny petrol engine, but with the equivalent of 600bhp on tap it’s easily a match for BMW’s similarly configured i8 supercar. It’ll also only be available to order online and you won’t actually be able to buy it – you subscribe to it, like you would a magazine.

The new arrival also marks the arrival of a new car brand in its own right. To most car nuts Polestar is the Swedes’ answer to what BMW does with its M cars and the magic Mercedes rustles up with its AMG saloons and sports cars, but apparently Polestar is rather more than that. Which is why the new model is going to be followed up by the imaginatively-titled Polestar Two.

Which is a mistake, I reckon. I love the Polestar One’s eco-friendly-yet-exciting take on driving fun and its clever double rear axle. I especially love the way it looks – which is unmistakably like a Volvo.

Specifically, you can tell it borrows plenty of styling cues from the old P1800 so beloved of Simon Templar in The Saint, and beneath those swooping curves it’s based on a Volvo platform too. Yet no matter how hard I peer at the press photos I can’t see the ‘V’ word stamped anywhere on the new arrival, which is a shame. Maybe if they’d launched it when all of Volvo’s cars were styled by toddlers using Etch-A-Sketch toys I’d understand the Swedes being a bit hesitant about launching a Volvo sports car, but these days things are different.

I sincerely hope the Polestar One not only arrives here on time, but does it shouting proudly about its Scandinavian heritage too. It is the coolest car Volvo’s ever made.

IT FEELS like the population of Southport’s halved over the last few days. Apparently all the people who’ve just vacated the resort were here for something called ‘the golf’ – and I don’t mean the Volkswagen hatchback, either.

The one thing that did strike me during the North West’s moment in the international sporting spotlight was that virtually everyone seemed to travel to the Royal Birkdale in either a series of commandeered Stagecoach double-deckers, or in a black Mercedes. It felt like every other car was a black E-Class with tinted rear windows.

The Benz blokes have obviously thrown a lot at The Open, which is why it surprised me enormously that it didn’t bring along its latest model. It claims the X-Class is the first pick-up truck from a premium manufacturer, but that’s not entirely the case.

Firstly, the posh pick-up from a luxury carmaker isn’t a new idea, because both Cadillac and Lincoln have already tried it (albeit with virtually no success, which is why they never sold them over here). Secondly, the trimmings might be Mercedes’ finest but the bones most definitely aren’t; keep it quiet, but the X-Class is essentially a Nissan Navara. So I suspect all the building site operatives who actually buy pick-ups are probably going to stick with the cheaper Japanese original.

So who’s going to buy the X-Class? Originally I’d suspected it’d be perfect for anyone who appears in or produces hip hop videos, but I can’t imagine there are too many of those in Formby or Parbold (Straight Outta Crosby does have a nice ring to it, though). Nor is it going to appeal to the sort of managing director types who normally go for big, German off-roaders, because the ML-Class already does it without relying on pick-up truck underpinnings.

But – and this is why I think Mercedes missed a trick at The Open – it has plenty of potential as a golfer’s chariot of choice. It has a sufficiently posh badge to mix it with the Jaguars and BMWs in the club car park, more than enough room inside to take four of your chums out for a quick round, and with it being a pick-up there’s plenty of room out back for all the sets of clubs you’ll ever need. Pack carefully and you could even bring your own golf buggy with you!

I can’t wait for the golf to come back to Southport, because the resort is going to be rammed with X-Class Mercs.

ROGER Daltrey hoped he’d die before he got old but I reckon there’s loads of things to look forward to.

Cheaper car insurance, for starters. Opportunities aplenty to play golf or go on coach tours of North Wales. Or, if you’re my recently-retired father, all that free time to mend the MGB in the garage.

But Roger – who’s still very much alive and well at the age of 73 – probably won’t be looking forward to doing another driving test. Yet he and just about every other motorist over the age of 70 might be forced to, if a petition that’s already gained more than 250,000 signatures is submitted to Westminster and taken seriously.

The circumstances that prompted it were truly tragic – an 85-year-old pensioner out for a drive in his classic Mercedes-Benz SL momentarily got confused, hit the wrong pedal, and ended up killing a pedestrian. The petition it prompted is calling for all motorists over the age of 70 to be given mandatory retests every three years, to prevent similar incidents ever happening again.

I’ve been following the issue with interest ever since this truly horrific incident happened back in 2012. I’ve every sympathy for Ben Brooks-Button, the widower of the woman killed and the man who nobly started this petition – but I’m not sure mandatory retests are the answer.

Statistically speaking if the suits at Whitehall are going to retest anyone it’s the generation I was part of not all that long ago – the 18-24s, with their Calvis Harris MP3s booming out of their mum’s borrowed Corsas. Nearly a quarter of them have a crash within two years of passing the driving test. It’s even worse if you’re under the age of 19; not only do you still get ID’d going into nightclubs but you’re involved in nine per cent of the nation’s big collisions, despite only making up 1.5 percent of the motoring population.

So should they be made to redo the test every three years? Of course not, and with the possible exception of anyone who works in sales and has an Audi A3 or A4 nor should anyone else. What we should be offering are courses that don’t cost a fortune, and a campaign that encourages people to think of driving as a skill to be honed and perfected, like tennis or playing a piano. We’re never going to get rid of all the incidents on Britain’s roads (and that includes ones caused by autonomous cars, so anyone suggesting that as answer can get back in their box), but we can bring them down by encouraging people to sharpen their skills.

Maybe the Government can hire Roger Daltrey to do the jingle. I hope I drive before I get old?

SAUSAGES, beer and the Mercedes-Benz 190E. It’s clear the Germans do some things brilliantly, but on the evidence I saw the other night motoring telly isn’t one of them.

While holed up in an Essen hotel room I ended up watching what can best be described as Germany’s answer to Wheeler Dealers. It involved slightly cocky petrolheads going out to some car dealers and trying to buy as much car as they can, but minus any of the messing around with welding machines or Top Gear-esque challenges afterwards (although there was a lot of sitting around with serious expressions and discussing things).

The programme was about as much as fun as reading a Dusseldorf railway timetable on a wet Wednesday morning (I should know – I tried it the following morning). But the show’s basic premise of finding as much motoring fun for about £15k at a nearby car dealer sounded like a laugh.

It turns out that the idea of scouring the region’s car dealerships translates perfectly well into English.

Within striking distance of The Champion’s offices I found all sorts of sub-£15k bargains, starting with a Bentley Eight with 29,000 miles on the clock and full service history. That’s 6.8-litres of craftsmanship for less than a mid-range Focus. Should you not fancy being bankrupted by a Bentley’s fuel bills there’s also a one-owner-from-new, 14-reg Golf GTI, a five-year-old BMW Z4 with just about every option imaginable thrown at it or a Jaguar XF with the 3.0-litre diesel that’s just about frugal enough to stop you weeping at filling stations after a long drive.

All of these cars, and all the Peugeot RCZ, MINI Cooper S and Volkswagen Scirocco deals I found while I was at it, all have one thing in common. They can all be found at car dealerships that are within half an hour’s drive of where you live. Play it right and you could pop out in the morning, have a look around some cars and end up with a shiny slice of petrolhead fun on your driveway that afternoon. Do your homework first, go in with a clear head and you’d be surprised at what you can find.

Unless you’re a German motoring telly presenter of course, in which case I’d recommend you spend it on sausages, beer and Mercedes-Benz 190Es instead.

I WAS wondering which Liverpool player was going to step out when the black S-Class pulled up alongside me. Or perhaps it was a leading light of the criminal word, dispatched to assassinate me for something unsavoury I’d written in The Champion years earlier.

But actually it was one of the freelance photographers I work with sometimes, and he was very pleased because this enormous luxury saloon with electric everything and an AMG sports pack really was his. Not only that, but it transpired the whole thing had set him back what an entry-level Ford Focus costs.

As cars go it really is phenomenal value. The equivalent diesel V6 model today will set you back the thick end of seventy grand, meaning this one has lost more than two thirds of its value in just eight years. It’s the sort of hefty depreciation that’ll make its original managing director owner wince, but look at it from a buyer’s perspective and it’s a no-brainer. For £16,000 you can’t buy the cheapest new car Mercedes-Benz makes, but you can buy a barely run-in S-Class with everything still working.

It’s not just misunderstood Mercedes models, either. For the same sort of money you can have a BMW 730D with a full service history and 39,000 miles on the clock – not bad, considering all it’ll get you new is a top of the range Polo. How about a Jaguar XJ with the 2.7-litre diesel V6? Again, could be yours for an Astra-sized outlay.

Yes, I know they’ll be more expensive to tax, insure and service than a family hatchback, but at least with them being the diesel versions you won’t be left weeping inconsolably every time you pull into a branch of Shell or BP. Nor are they the sort of automotive antiques I normally deal with – even at this sort of money they’re all fully working cars with plenty of life left in them, gadgets that sync up with your iPhone and seats that massage your buttocks on motorway slogs.

It’s worth bearing in mind next time you’re thinking of venturing out and buying a new car – for the same sort of money you can have a low mileage S-Class, a barely used BMW or a just run-in Jaguar.

Suddenly the snob factor of having a 66-plate on your front bumper isn’t so impressive. Although you will get Champion journalists cowering everytime you drive past, thinking their number’s up.

Read more of David’s work

Recommended Blogs

Unauthorised use and/or duplication of any material from this blog without express and written permission from this site’s author is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to David Simister and Life On Cars with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Unless stated otherwise, all text is copyrighted to David Simister and Life On Cars. Images are copyrighted to David Simister and Life On Cars, or reproduced for editorial purposes from manufacture publicity material and Newspress.